Rosie, Keep Looking
by Jesuslovesmarina
Summary: With her favorite man dying upstairs and Rose helpless to save him, an important promise is made. "If I lose you once, I'll find you again. If I lose you twice, I'll find whatever's left. If I lose you three times, I'll search until worlds burn and die around me and if I lose you four times, I'll never, ever stop lovin' you, Doctor, 'cause I do..." Please review! I don't own DW.
1. Chapter 1

Rosie, Keep Looking

Chapter 1

Rose gently set her and John's baby in his crib; he was finally asleep after an hour of colicky fussing that frustrated her, because even as a mother, she still couldn't give him a quick fix for the problem and return him to happy, blissful baby state again. She was very protective of her children, especially now that there were two of them.

John normally stayed up at least for a few minutes to help her, but tonight he'd come home from Torchwood with a headache and was making sure he got a full night's sleep before the next day's work. They'd been married for almost five years now, since John had barely waited a month before proposing after they'd been left together by the Doctor on Bad Wolf Bay. They'd been married almost immediately, as quickly as John could manage to pressure Jackie into getting something together. He'd insisted on having his Rose as soon as he could get her. He was as fierce in his devotion to her even now, if not more so.

It had taken work to keep their marriage thriving, as any marriage would require. But through thick and thin they'd only grown closer, and two children, a baby Tardis, and many, many alien battles later, here they were, almost in Heaven. Their flat was unique, set apart in a quaint little neighborhood on a large plot of land where they had plenty of space to themselves.

She smiled to herself as she watched her son sleeping soundly, at last. Life was almost, almost perfect. As perfect as it could get.

"Feelin' better today, babe?" Rose questioned as she dropped a kiss on John's head, on her way past the table with cereal in one hand and milk in the other. Jacqueline was spooning Fruit Loops all over her face, and the baby hadn't waken up yet. Rose was still in her bathrobe but John was showered and ready for work.

"I dunno," he remarked, sounding fairly cheerful but in the familiar tone of trying to hide something behind his demeanor. "I've been better. Hope I'm not comin' down with something; that'd be rubbish, wouldn't it?"

"That it would," Rose agreed, looking concerned. "Don't work too hard today."

When he came home that night his condition had not improved. He tried going straight to bed after dinner, but Rose made him take something first, afraid that he'd get sick if he didn't.

"Why won't Daddy play with me, Mama?" Jackie whined, very confused. They always played together after dinner, before she went to take her bath.

"Daddy's sick, lovie. You'll have to be very nice to him, and let him rest tonight."

"Again? When's he gonna get better?" the three-year-old exclaimed.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be better tomorrow," Rose smiled down at her as she continued washing the dinner dishes. "Just be patient, Jackie."

He wasn't better the next day, or the next, so Rose finally convinced him to take off work and make a doctor visit.

"It doesn't make any sense, Rose," he protested, on his way out the door. "It's not gotten any worse, and I already know everything they're gonna say at the clinic. They're gonna read off a list of questions and ask me everything I do, and what I eat, and how long I sleep, and what I do at work, and then they're gonna tell me to take medication for depression-anxiety disorder, which we both know I don't have, and then they're gonna send me home with a prescription and I'm gonna take it to the drug store and they're gonna tell me it costs seventeen pounds a bottle plus tax, and then I'm gonna come home and be right back where we started and—I'm not even gonna think about it 'cause it makes my head hurt worse!"

Rose raised her eyebrows as he disappeared out the door. For once, she thought he could probably rival the original Doctor in the length of his ranting. Laughing, she set about getting the kids dressed for a trip to the pool, and didn't worry about her husband until all four of the family came home for lunch.

Her ease became a concern she couldn't quite name when he arrived for lunch and showed her every detail of his morning, down to the seventeen pounds plus tax for the useless pills, exactly as he had spouted off in prediction while headed out the door.

Of course, he threw the pills in the trash, since they both knew fully well they would NOT solve the problem, but in his brief rant earlier he had described every detail of the doctor visit, prescription, and price.

John brushed off her comments as coincidence, but Rose remembered the incident anyway. It was just too weird that he'd predicted everything so perfectly. _Almost as perfectly as the Doctor would have._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A couple of not-improved and not-very-pleasant weeks later, Rose and her friend Marie, who also had two kids, decided to go shopping together after Marie finished her teaching job and picked up her kids from the daycare center.

"You're such a homey mother, hon," Marie teased her as they sorted through clothing together. "Honestly, when are you going back to work?"

Rose smiled, not really sure how to answer. "I dunno," she replied, shifting her weight as she realized Alex was asleep in his Snuggie on her chest. "I like bein' a mum. It's a lot of work, obviously. I might never go back."

"You're still on leave; better make up your mind soon," Marie reminded her supportively.

Just then, Rose's phone rang and she fished through her overcrowded diaper bag to find it. The caller ID indicated Pete Tyler.

"This would be my Dad, tellin' me that leave is about over," she rolled her eyes at Marie, who laughed at her. She raised the phone to her ear. "This is Rose."

"Rose, honey, I've got bad news," Pete's voice warned her, before he continued.

"How bad?" Rose answered, sounding unconcerned. "Sycoracs? Sontarans? Weeping Angels? Don't tell me it's Weeping Angels. That would be actually _scary_."

Pete hesitated for a moment. "It's John."

Blood drained from her face. "What about him?"

"We've taken him to the hospital. You might want to meet us there."

Rose drove to the nearest hospital in a frenzy, after Marie agreed to take Jackie to her house for the rest of the day. She rushed around the front desk and found her father waiting outside a room on the second floor.

"How is he? What's goin' on? Have they found what it is yet?" the words exploded out in a rush as she struggled to catch her breath, clutching Alex to her chest in a vain effort to keep him from waking up with all the excitement.

Pete grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. "It's all right, Rose, settle down! Whatever it is, they—they do know it's nothing serious."

"Then they don't know what it is?"

Pete reached for his grandson. "Here, let me take Alex. You go on in and see John. But keep calm, dear, everything is all right."

Rose pulled the Snuggie straps from her shoulders and waist and carefully handed her baby to her father. Her hands shook with the simple task. She knew everything was fine, and yet—she'd lost the Doctor so many times, it seemed like the Devil was toying with the idea of doing it again.

She ran into his room without stopping to compose herself first. It was fine; John would expect her to appear like that, anyway. Flustered and with her hair and clothes all askew, she crossed the floor with two steps and sat down abruptly beside his bed. He raised his eyes in amusement at the sight of her.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I wanna hear, everythin', right now, so you better take a deep breath. How do you feel?" she added, her heat melting into concern in an instant.

"Rosie, I feel fine," he said, honestly. "I don't know why they brought me here; probably 'cause I scared them; I do that a lot, sometimes. Was a freak thing. Only lasted a minute. And now I'm stuck here for the rest of the day!"

"But what was it?" she prodded anxiously.

"My blasted head! I was in the middle of something, and all of a sudden it just started killing me, and then I almost passed out—mark that, _almost_—and then your dad got scared, 'cause I guess he's a lot like you—"

"Oi!"

"—and he drove me up here, kicking and screaming, and then he called you."

"I hope you don't mean you were literally kicking and screaming…?"

"Well! I was _hoping _you weren't going to ask that question…"

"_Doctor_," she warned.

"Alright! So, I sort of was—not badly, though—just cause—it _hurt_," he attempted to explain.

"How bad?"

"Well, they've got me on painkillers _now_. Completely messes up your brain—you can hardly think with this stuff."

He seemed pretty cheeky to _her_, but that was not what mattered right now.

"And they still don't know what's wrong with you?" she demanded.

"Nope, still don't know. Useless bunch of 21'st century Earthlings," he added under his breath. "And did I mention, this hospital is disgusting. I'm gonna catch something actually dangerous just by sitting here if I don't get out soon! Do you know, Rose, hospitals give me the creeps; they really do."

He seemed out of breath by the end of the sentence and Rose stared at him curiously. "Yeh, I know that," she answered, slowly. Something about the way he was speaking sounded off. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him.

"You're gonna figure out what's wrong wif you, then?" she asked, just making sure.

"Soon as I get out of this hospital, you know it," he replied, with less of an edge in his voice as he reassured her. "It's rubbish; not bein' able to think straight, half the time." He motioned her forward, and gave her a sound kiss to seal his promise.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Rose didn't like John being on painkillers all the time, but it didn't seem to dull his personality or intelligence as expected. Rather, his work only continued to develop as he and his department at Torchwood designed an entirely new and improved system for tracking and managing rift activity and dimensional pathways. Actually Pete confided proudly to Rose that John really didn't have a _department_; more like, he ran one department and was slowly increasing in his management of all the rest, too! Besides that, he was of course running tests in their basement at home to determine what was causing him pain.

It seemed to Rose that he was becoming more and more like the actual Time Lord Doctor, and although that wasn't necessarily bad it still scared her. She didn't know what kind of a connection his shift in personality could have with the pain in his head, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was one. John tried to set her fears to rest with the results from his testing, but frankly everything he came up with was so flippin' complicated she didn't know what to think of it.

"Yea, that's lovely, but what does that mean? What're we supposed to do?" she pressured him, after he came upstairs one evening with a whole analysis of the intricacies of brain chemical balances and synaptic response time.

"Well, I'm still getting to that," he dodged the question, rubbing the back of his neck as he pretended to busily examine the data.

She rolled her eyes, but he didn't notice. "Well, are you ready for dinner, then? It's about to get cold."

"Aw, Rose, I'm right on the edge of a breakthrough! Give me just a minute, will you?"

"I been doin' that for weeks, John," she snapped. "Now get up here and eat your dinner. You can't live off those painkillers, you know, though sometimes I wonder if you try."

"Wot?! Rose, that isn't true!" he exclaimed, offended. Jackie had looked up from her toy farmhouse in the family room when she heard it was time for dinner, but when she saw them getting angry she watched, wide-eyed, for a few moments and went back to what she was doing. "I thought you wanted me workin' on this, anyway!"

"I wanted you takin' care of yourself!"

"I'm trying to! It's not like I can just figure stuff out in a few minutes anymore; I'm not the actual Doctor. Do you expect me to be?!" his voice started getting louder.

"But you're becomin' more and more like him and it's scarin' me!" Rose almost shouted. "You hardly ever play with the kids anymore! You never call me Rosie anymore! You can't keep your mouth shut for five minutes and it's all about work, work, work, and strings of numbers and technical whatever-it-is you talk about—"

"I played with the kids just last night, and I don't talk half as much as I did when I was the Doctor! You're picking and choosing what you remember to pick on me, Rose—Rosie, I—"

"Well, it was only 'cause I was watching you. You don't play with them 'cause YOU like it, not anymore." she accused.

"Well, that's a fair way to judge!" sarcasm dripped from his words.

"And it's more than that," she continued to shout, ignoring the baby's cries that had started for no reason in the background, "You're hidin' something from me, I can tell. No one, not even the Doctor, can talk that much about a bunch of rubbish and not even care to bother explainin' it to me unless they were tryin' to hide somethin'. I wanna know what is it you found, what's wrong with you, why you're actin' like this, and what we gotta do to fix it!"

"You know, at this point, I could just about say the same about you!" he exploded, pointing his finger at her.

"Well, I'm just tryin' to be a good wife, and you're makin' it awfully hard!"

"Well, I'm just trying to figure out who the heck I am, 'cause I'm your husband, and a father, and part Time Lord, and part human, and a normal guy with a job, and a genius who's building a Tardis in his basement, and the son-in-law of a—health-drink tycoon, and a nine-hundred and nine-year-old time traveler who's watched universes burn and races die, and lost his own race on top of it along with Donna after the metacrisis, and it's kind of hard to figure out how to do all that—to BE all that—PERFECTLY to suit you!"

"Well, I'm SORRY!" Rose started to cry, cursing herself for it all the while, and John, ending his speech gasping for breath, wound up sitting on the floor holding his head before he got up, spun around, and ran back into the basement without looking at her.

"John!" she shouted after him, but it was no use.

She wanted to go curl up in a chair with a cup of tea and cry about the injustices done to her while calling up her Mum or Marie for advice, but such a thing was not to be heard of in a houseful of screaming baby noises with dinner boiling over on the stove and little plastic farm animals and construction paper migrating over the floor from the family room to the kitchen.

"Alright for you, mate, you can just run to the basement while I clean this mess up, by myself," she sobbed under her breath, hoping that Jackie didn't hear her or know what she meant. Still wiping tears away that refused to stop falling, for some reason; she scooped up the baby, yelled in a crackly voice to Jackie to pick up her toys, and shoved the pot off the stove, nearly burning her thumb in the process. A few exhausting minutes later, the three of them were sitting down to peas and potatoes and fish that hadn't been microwaved quite long enough. Jackie ate her peas with surprisingly little fuss, and came over partway through the meal to give Mama a little comforting pat on the arm.

"Eat your dinner, Jackie," she snapped at the little girl, before she could stop herself. Seeing her daughter's innocent little face wrinkle up as she scurried back to her seat made her feel like she was the worst mom that ever lived. EVERYTHING was falling apart, and she wished one of her friends would just magically show up at the front door and take care of the kids and the dinner table and—put on a cup of tea—but no one came, of course, because no one knew she was having such a horrible day.

It was a miserably quiet dinner and bathtime, and Rose didn't bother making Jackie clean up her toys before bed. She just bundled up Alex in his crib and sent Jackie to sleep without a bedtime story (which made her mad), threw on her pajamas, and went down to see if John had come back up from the basement yet. Downstairs was empty when she got there, and she tried curling up in a chair for a few minutes, but something told her she should go downstairs and attempt to make up, so she hauled herself up and flopped her way to the basement in her slippers.

The light was on and his papers and gadgets he'd been working on, some of them for several years, were scattered everywhere; on the floor, in boxes and file cabinets, and all over the desk. John was facedown on the carpet, sleeping or just resting, she couldn't tell. She smiled a little when she saw him, wondering if she should wake him up or not.

"John?" she murmured softly, moving toward him. She knelt down beside him and ran her hand through his hair. His head felt warm under her hand. He must've worked up a sweat while he was so busy. Rose felt a corner of her mouth go up. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, a sense of peace washed over her, and she felt bad for fighting with him earlier, especially when he was probably feeling pretty awful, and had been for so long.

With a sigh, she finally shook his shoulder to wake him. He'd be _really_ sore if he slept down here all night.

John didn't wake up right away. When he finally rolled over and opened his eyes, he started gasping like he was in pain.

"John, you alright?"

He lay flat on his back, clutching at his head. "You thought I was asleep?" he managed, clearly in pain.

Rose grew alarmed. "Well?"

"I had a breakthrough, Rose! I had a breakthrough and that's what it was! I should've listened to you!" his voice sounded almost panicked.

"John, you took your painkillers this morning, right?" she demanded, feeling her heart jump into her throat.

"'Course I did! It's not that, Rose—Rosie! I've got to remember to call you Rosie!" his voice was much louder now, fearful, and he kept on gasping like he couldn't get his breath. He moaned in pain and grabbed her knee so tightly it turned white.

"Doctor, what do I do?!" she exclaimed, not sure if she should be calling 999, Torchwood; or invading the medicine cabinet.

"Don't call me Doctor! Don't ever, ever call me Doctor again!" he shouted in a panicked voice.

"Why not?!" Rose tried to understand.

"That's what it is!" he gasped, trying to hold back a scream of pain. "Rose, just listen! –Rosie!"

"I'm right here!" her chest grew tight with fear. She'd seen him like this once before. Right after regeneration; it was just like this. Everything had been fine in the end, hadn't it? Wouldn't everything be fine now?

"It's the metacrisis," he managed between gasps. "I wasn't sleeping. I passed out. It hurt so much—when I figured it out!"

"What about the metacrisis?" Rose now knew they were in deep trouble.

"My brain's part human. Can't—can't handle all the information. It was fine for awhile but now—" he groaned, "it's starting to fill up. It's trying to burn me up. Everything I am—that's why I haven't called you Rosie. Why I've been working all the time at Torchwood. It thinks I'm the Doctor—my brain thinks I'm a Time Lord and I don't have any room left to fight it!"

"I won't let it take you!" Rose shouted instantly. "I won't let it hurt you! John, tell me what I can do! I'll go and find out myself if I have to, I will!"

John stopped to stare at her, eyes wild in pain and desperation for a few moments. He was trying to think, trying not to think, trying not to say what he knew was the answer, which was, _"NOTHING."_

"Hold me, please!" he finally whimpered, at a loss for any solution.

Rose immediately complied, as he knew she would, holding his sweaty, throbbing head in her lap. She ran her fingers along his forehead. "We need to get help," she whispered as he began to relax, just slightly.

"No," he moaned softly, "in the morning. I hafta stop thinking—" he writhed to one side as the pain began again— "I hafta stop before it kills me! I hafta think about you—and Jackie, and Alex, and your _confounded _mum—and just be John Smith—why can't I just be John Smith? The Doctor never leaves me alone!"

As they lay, both gasping for breath, in each other's arms, Rose felt his skin actually begin to cool under her hands. "That's it," she choked out, "You think about that. It'll make you well again—now we know!"

He frowned deeply, even as the pain lessened and he got his breath. "But I can't keep secrets from you, Rose—Rosie. That's what the Doctor does, not me. Not John Smith. That's who I am, right Rose?"

"'Course it is!" she tried to smile down at him, in the dim light from his work lamps. "And it's Rosie! You call me Rosie, you hear?"

"'Cause this is my secret. It won't work," he told her, as if it were a fact. "I'll hold on a long time, 'cause you're here, and I'll fight for you. But, Rosie, I'm gonna die!"

She hugged him. "No, you're not."

"I don't want to die," he confessed.

"You won't," she said firmly.

"I didn't keep a secret," he pointed out, apparently pleased with himself.

"No, you didn't. Um, thank you." Rose felt as though she was talking to one of the children now.

He started to sit up, groaning as he did so. "We should probably go to bed now."

"It's okay. I can stay up, if it helps you."

"No, I need to go to bed too. It's okay, Rose, I can walk now. I'm fine, long as I'm John Smith."

She helped him stand up anyway, and it was a good thing, because he seemed a little wobbly when he got to his feet. "Yeh. You stay that way, you wonderful D—you wonderful man you."

He swallowed hard, looking at her.

"And it's Rosie."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next few months Rose could have sworn that Rose-Rosie was her new nickname. John fought it, yes he did, and he fought it hard. The problem was breaking the news to everyone else. The morning after the incident, the two of them decided it was time to resign from Torchwood. Rose wasn't worried about money—they had some saved—but she did realize that in time she may be the one working. Neither of them were about to accept handouts from Pete and Jackie, at least not yet.

John experimented with what his brain could handle—fixing stuff around the house and at the Tyler's, playing with the kids, and other dumbed-down tasks were fine. For the first year he could still tinker around in his workshop downstairs and focus on growing the Tardis, and he did spend a little more time trying to find some kind of cure for his own condition.

The problem was that the more he looked for a cure and thought about the various scientific results different procedures could have, the worse his condition became.

For awhile it seemed they had his haywire brain under control. They spent a lot of time as a family, just the four of them, taking Jackie and Alex places and playing games and having parties and date nights and visiting with the Tylers and little Tony. Those were things they could do. They didn't require much thinking. They were as human as life could get.

But before long, it got old because there was nothing interesting left to do for them, and Rose considered going part-time at Torchwood. The night watchman, however, was retiring and John decided to take up that position. He was gone at night and slept during the day, but it was something he could do and he still had plenty of time off for rest and spending with his family.

The job lasted nine months, when John took Rose aside on a Sunday afternoon. "I'm not sure I can be a watchman any more, Rose," he confided grimly. He didn't call her Rosie. He almost never remembered to now. "The other night I found a data readout somebody'd left on the floor. I was gonna put it back in the file cabinet. I didn't mean to read it," he swallowed hard. "I just looked at it by accident. I couldn't stop reading it. I must've read it a dozen times in a few seconds. I memorized it and it kept repeating in my head, over and over, and I couldn't stop it. All those numbers, over and over again, and all their roots and relations and derivatives—and there was no end to it."

Rose noticed he was struggling even as he spoke about the incident, and his face was visibly flushed with heat. She bit her lip, watching him with concern in her eyes.

"It kept going and going until I blacked out," he continued remorsefully. "I woke up; I don't even know how much later 'cause I didn't dare look at the clock after that."

"Why not?" she was confused.

"It has numbers on it!" he exclaimed sadly.

Rose's mouth fell open as realization dawned on her. If he couldn't even look at a clock any more—

"Torchwood can't have a night watchman who can't even look after himself," John concluded, his voice lower than Rose had ever heard it.

She started to tell him that it was okay, and they'd always known this day would come, and she'd just call her dad and let him know. But John had something more important to say.

"I failed you, Rose."

His eyes had hardened and grown old and she didn't like that look. John would be trying not to cry right now. This man was just spitting out facts like he did it every day.

"Nine hundred years and I'm still failing you," he continued, looking past her now, as if he'd forgotten she was even there.

"Y—you haven't known me for nine hundred years, John. Just a couple," she said, feeling nervous as she tried to figure out who the stranger was who had suddenly appeared in front of her, in her husband's body and voice.

"I've failed all my companions."

"I'm not your companion—I'm your wife."

Both of them had tensed up, and John—or what had been John—turned to her with narrowed eyes. "What is a wife—to a Time Lord?" His voice came out slow and thick.

"What are you talking about, John—stop it! You're scaring me!" she started to back away from him.

"Look at me!" he tried to explain, gesturing to her angrily. "I TRY and give you the world, Rose Tyler; but I fail you every time." He gritted his teeth in anger, not at her but at himself. "I thought I'd have to watch you die. And I finally come to terms with that, and think of what happens._ I_ die! Every time! _I'm_ the one who disappears! I turn around and run for the Tardis like a coward. Like the coward I've always BEEN!" He wrathfully shoved a pile of laundry off the table he was leaning on, scattering it on the floor.

Suddenly his face went ghost-pale and he weakly collapsed beside it, and she noticed the sweat glistening on his skin. Frightened more by this than his little speech, Rose ran to him, grabbing his hand and helping him stay sitting upright by putting her arm behind his back. It took her a moment to get her breath and decide what to say. "John?" she finally managed. "John, baby, I'm right here. Can you hear me? I—I'm right here."

He put a mostly limp arm around her neck and leaned his head on her shoulder as she rocked him, back and forth, on the tile floor.

Every week Rose and Marie still went shopping, but since John was at home (though carefully sheltered from numbers and intellectual papers or books of any kind) he would watch the four kids while the ladies had some time to themselves. The walk to town was a short one, so usually they didn't have to take a car.

"Aren't you ever going to get a Zepplin, Rosie?" Marie teased her one day, as they walked together, arms full of groceries. "My family's even got one now, and we're nowhere half as rich as your parents. Your Mum and Dad each have one, don't they?"

"I think Zepplins are useless," Rose rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "We take the kids up in Mum's or Dad's—usually Mum's—sometimes and they love it but think about it—what're you really gonna use it for?" She really didn't care for the Zepplins, mainly because they seemed to her like that one extra thing the universe had thrown into this world to make it different from the one she'd come from. No one had needed—or wanted— Zepplins in _her_ world.

"They're good for storage space," Marie offered up lamely, and they both started laughing. Rose, of course, didn't have the heart to bring up the fact that they could never even _afford _a Zepplin, since now she and John were both at home, not working, and he was becoming less independent by the day.

Just then they started to walk by a familiar grassy lot, coated with a springtime blanket of flowers—the town cemetery.

Rose stopped where she stood, the smile disappearing from her face.

Marie watched her carefully as Rose faced the manicured graveyard, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I'm not gonna bury him, Marie," she said finally, her voice steady. "I'm NOT gonna bury him."

She didn't move for several more moments, and Marie finally shifted her grocery bags into one hand, leaving the other free to take Rose's shoulders and turn her gently toward the sidewalk. "Come on, hon," she said gently. "Let's get you home."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Rose carefully pulled an old carpet bag down from the shelf in the storage closet. This was where she'd kept some secret things, special things she rarely looked at and never showed anyone. She'd planned to show both of her kids someday, but not yet. Today, she was looking for one picture.

Digging through a protective photo case, she found it.

"Hello," she said softly to the picture, sitting back on her heels. "I'm probably goin' mad, talkin' to pictures now. But—I really wish I could see you again!" She ran a finger down the image, across the outline of a firm, shaven chin beneath a pair of powerful, ice-blue eyes. The big old nose and ears that stuck out on either side of his close-cropped head. The mouth that she'd seen set much tighter than it was now, in the prank picture she'd taken of him when she thought he wasn't looking. The look he wore in this picture said, in his deep voice and distinctive northern accent, _"Rose, WHAT in the name of Dickens are you up to this time? I'm tryin' ta work!"_

"I wish you could see what a mess you got me into," she added, with a hint of scolding in her voice. "I'm married wif kids, my dad's alive and made a fortune, we live in a parallel universe, and Mum—oh, if YOU saw Mum now, you'd fall over backwards, I guarantee it!" Rose laughed and lay down with her back to the carpet, holding the picture up where she could still see it. "Fame, wealth and glory never changed her! Jus' made her an awful lot funnier! This is your fault, you know," she continued, more seriously. "You just—you and your—your daft old fa—" her voice got shaky with tears and she had to take a deep breath to keep going. "You loved me too much, Doctor! You loved me so, so, so too much and it's not fair you had to die!"

The tears were flowing freely now. "I was just a stupid kid, and you gave me your whole world and acted like it was nuffin', so I thought it was nuffin! And by the time I figured out you loved me it was too late!" Rose let the picture drop to her chest, where she held it closely as if she could somehow pretend that way that Nine was still there, listening to her cries.

"Doctor, I love you!" she sobbed, clinging to the frame. "I love you more than anything but God himself, I really do! I loved Ten and John stole my heart, but you were the first. So I'm gonna make a promise," she sat up and sniffed loudly. "Not to them, but to you, for them and any other Doctor in this whole wide universe and all the parallel ones out there that you showed me. I've lost you three times and I'll stop at nuffin' so I won't lose John, too." Rose felt her mouth twist as she thought of her poor husband, sleeping upstairs but unable to ever truly rest because he was fighting his own mind in a death challenge.

"But I promise you this," she continued, her voice beginning to steady with determination, "Doesn't matter how many times I keep losin' you, I'll keep lookin'. I'm not gonna stop lookin' for you, Doctor, not if it takes me the rest of my life to find you. If I lose you once, I'll find you again. If I lose you twice, I'll find whatever's left. If I lose you three times, I'll search until worlds burn and die around me and if I lose you four times, I'll never, ever stop lovin' you, Doctor, 'cause I do. I love you!" She lifted the picture to her face again, blinking to clear her eyes as she took in the face she loved most of all her Doctors. And carefully, so she didn't stain it with her tears, she kissed it and sealed her promise.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The sunshine didn't go with what she saw before her. It was strong and gold as evening approached and streamed in through the window, hot and bright.

It didn't manage to fall on John's face, pale as the death that awaited him except for the black circles under his eyes. Rose had moved the curtains so they blocked the sun away from him because none of the nurses were apparently considerate enough to do so themselves. Even though they knew he had a dangerously high fever that hadn't gone down in weeks. And wasn't going to.

They were sending in a new nurse to help them today, mainly because Rose was upset and snippety with all of them and had frightened most of them away by now. She tried not to be, but it seemed like it couldn't be helped. There was no outlet that came with the frustration of total helplessness as you watched your husband die.

John was almost as restless in comatose as he had been when he was conscious. He wasn't even really John any more. He was the Doctor. Every bit the same, except that his body was half human and couldn't handle the… everything… that was the Doctor.

Rose had cried every tear she had inside of her, enough to last for years to come. And she'd pounded the fluff out of so many pillows there was no more energy for looking after the kids. And she'd slept so much she couldn't sleep any more.

All that was left to do was wait.

Rose hated waiting as much as she knew he did. Especially now that he was basically the Doctor.

A warning knock on the door was followed by the entrance of a fairly young man, probably in his early thirties, in blue scrubs whose expression was neither piteous nor uncaring. Just—helpful, perhaps. Rose sighed as she leaned her head back against the chair she'd been sitting in for—she didn't even know how long, probably hours. At last they had someone who wasn't insanely annoying. Or at least she hoped he wasn't.

She wasn't in the mood to be nice, however. "Get in here; it's been way too long since we had assistance," she barked in a semi-hoarse voice, not moving her head and allowing herself the luxury of closing her eyes for a brief second. Wasn't like she had anything else to do.

"Yes, 'm," was the humble response, and the male nurse set about checking all the monitors and IV bags, making as little noise as possible without losing efficiency. "Is there…anything I can help you or your husband with, other than the basics?"

Rose sighed a very, very long sigh. "Yehhh…" she droned, stretching a little in her chair. "Cuppa tea would be the _universe_…" she narrowed her eyes at the nurse. "But you're not a waiter now, are you?"

He wasn't fazed for a second. "I'll be right back," he assured her, stepping out. Within five minutes he was back with a steaming cup. Rose's eyes widened in spite of herself as she inhaled the scent and took her first sip as he handed it to her, not caring as much as she thought she would that it tasted as bad as any of the hospital stuff.

"Tea!" she smiled wryly, saying it a lot louder than she'd meant to. "Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healin' the synapses. Eh?!"

The nurse looked at her weird at the outburst, but she reached over, and with a very fake cheerfulness, patted John's arm as he tossed in his sleep. "Think tea'd be just the thing now, babe? Nope, sorry, cause this time we need a bit more than that!" She pulled away and sat back in her chair, laughing hysterically; angrily.

The nurse continued to watch with a bewildered expression on his already blank-looking face. "—Ma'am, perhaps you should—maybe—lie down."

She stopped for the briefest moment, surveying him with great interest for the first time. "Really? Am I going mad? I must be going mad!" she burst into hysterics a second time, nearly laughing herself right out of her chair. The nurse took a step toward her and she held up her hands, still laughing. "I'm fine!"

Quickly enough that she had no time to react, he was standing beside her, with an experienced arm around her shoulders, helping her stand and ushering her out of the room. She kept protesting, but in between fits of laughter, she didn't fight his movements. "No, really; Sir, I'm fine—I'm just—fine—I really am; I know—"

"Ma'am, you've got to come with me. You've got to rest—you've got children who need you well!"

It was the longest string of words that'd come out of the nurse's mouth so far.

Rose threw her head back and laughed again. "I'm not worried 'bout my children," she chuckled, shaking her head at him. "They're with their grandparents. They've got lots of money, their grandparents. Lots an' lots of it—they're the Vitex owners, you know. Pete and Jackie Tyler? They've got _lots_ of money…"

The nurse looked bewildered for a moment, but still held her tightly by his side to keep her from running off. "Kids don't—live off of money, Mrs. Smith."

"Mine do!" Rose exclaimed happily.

He gave her a look of major concern as he gently but firmly pushed her out the door of her husband's room and down the hall. "Alright, Ma'am, we need to lay you down for a bit," he said in an authoritative tone, pulling her beside him despite her continued protests.

With his free hand, he pushed open the door to the room she'd been allowed to stay in for several nights. Gleefully, Rose, pushed back against his average build and tried to leave, but he escorted her in and had her shoes off, sitting her down on the bed before she could blink again. "Now, go to sleep for a bit, Mrs. Smith. I'll wake you up if there's any change in your husband."

Rose gave him a mindless smile. "Promise?" she asked in a cheerful tone, pulling the blankets over her head.

"Um, yeah; promise," was the reassuring reply.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Rose had never felt so tired when waking up; except for the occasional morning she'd had a hangover in her slightly wilder years past.

Her head felt like a rock. How long had she been sleeping?

A glimpse in the mirror, had there been one, would have showed her shiny blond hair in a rat's nest of tangles, sticking up every which way, and her clothes hung on her, making her look like she was homeless. A streak of makeup on her cheek was still there from days ago when she'd forgotten to wash her face one night—and the next morning, etc.

Groaning, she tossed her legs over the side of the dinky little hospital bed and wandered over to the small, empty stand, throwing herself down on the floor and leaning her back against the side of it, head in her hands, trying to rub away the sleepiness from her eyes.

There was a knock at the door and she looked up at it, blearily, before it opened a few seconds later.

"Um, Mrs. Smith?" the same male nurse from before poked his head in the door. His eyes wandered from the bed to the floor where she sat with her knees pulled up and relief was evident on his face.

"Yeah. Hi," Rose mumbled, her throat feeling scratchy. She suddenly realized how thirsty she was. There was a pitcher of water on the stand, and some disposable cups. Jumping up, she poured a cup and downed it in seconds, drinking it in like she hadn't had anything in days.

"You were asleep for two days," the nurse informed her.

Rose almost choked on her water. "TWO DAYS?!" she gasped. "That doesn't make any sense! I was asleep for two _days?_?"

The nurse leaned on the doorframe. "Yep," he said, monotonously.

A hesitant laugh caught in her throat. This wasn't very funny. "Wow," she choked out. "M'so sorry. For, you know, going mental on you_. Two days_ ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "It was a bit awkward, yeh," he confessed with a little smile.

Rose actually did laugh this time, genuinely. "You look like anything you ever do would be awkward!" she pointed at his rather blank-looking face, teasing him. Then she stopped, seeing his confusion. "Sorry, was that rude? That was rude…yeh. Sorry. What's your name?"

The nurse shifted on his feet. "Uh, Williams. Rory Williams."

"That's a stupid name!" the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Oh, that was rude again!" she gasped, realizing. She was the one being stupid! Was she really, truly mental now? She couldn't stop herself from saying anything that popped into her head! "I'm so sorry! I really am!"

"'S all right," the nurse replied slowly. "My wife says the same thing. Only she doesn't apologize for it."

That made Rose feel a little better. She reached up and felt her hair, all mussed, and frantically started trying to comb it out with her fingers in front of the nurse. "You've got a wife, then? Is she pretty?"

"She's gorgeous," Rory replied, expression still not changing as he watched her, still trying to make sure she was actually okay now and not looking entirely convinced just yet.

"Hmm," Rose said absentmindedly, still poking through her hair. She was staring off into space now, but her attention jerked back to him as she thought of another question. "Got any kids?" Suddenly she remembered something. "Oh, 'bout my kids," she added, hot embarrassment starting to creep up into her cheeks. "They _don't_ live off of money, by the way. I don't know why I said that…or any of that stuff about them—I wasn't actually going mental the other day, was I? Was I really that crazy?"

"A bit, yeah," the nurse replied, shifting uncomfortably again. He looked down for a second, then back up at her. "But yeah, I do have a kid. Her name is Melody," he cracked a full grin for the first time since Rose had met him. "I bet you ten pounds that she's prettier than your kids!"

"_Oi!_" He had her full attention now! "You are a subtle, sneaky cheek, you!"

His grin grew wider as she jumped to her feet.

"Ready to go see your husband now?" the nurse asked cheerfully.

Rose shook her head at him. "You watch what you say 'bout my kids, Mr. Williams, I'm warnin' you!" Playfully, she shook a finger in his face as she pushed past him, into the hallway. He just grinned at her; rather pleased with himself, perhaps, for getting a spark of life out of the wife of his patient.

Rose burst into the room and felt her heart sink again as she instantly saw John was worse. He was no longer moving constantly, thrashing around, but his limbs were sprawled out on the water mattress, still, and his breathing was strained and heavy. Sweat glistened on his skin.

Swallowing hard, Rose put a knee up on the bed and reached out to touch his forehead. They both flinched at the touch, him because he didn't know she was there and her because he was so hot. Even the cooling water mattress was warm around the area where he was—his body temperature was heating it up faster than it could cool him down.

She spun around as the door opened and Nurse Williams came in with a tray of breakfast items, setting it down on the side table. Rose was starving, but she really wanted to be able to touch John. To let him know it was all right.

The last time they'd spoken together was a few briefly exchanged words about his condition, the week before. If this was going to be the end, she desperately wanted to talk to him, one last time…

"_You'll see him again, Rose." _

She whipped her head around to stare at Rory. "What're you talkin' about?!" she spluttered.

He looked up at her in confusion from where he was setting down the tray. "I—wasn't—talking," he said slowly, as though he was starting to question her sanity yet again.

Her eyes drifted quickly toward her husband, then back to Rory. "You sure?" she demanded, abruptly. She could've sworn she heard a voice, his voice.

"Definitely," he replied, in the same wary tone.

Rose continued to gaze at John's still, pale face, watching and not daring to touch him as a trickle of sweat ran across his brown and down his cheek. "Mr. Williams," she said in a very soft voice. The male nurse was quiet behind her.

Rose had realized something in these last few minutes about Nurse Williams. He was a unique man. He didn't look like much, but he seemed to get everything _right_. Down to the very curtains that were still pulled back to block out the sun, and the breakfast he'd brought up for her. She didn't look up at him, but she had to ask a question. "D'ya ever pray for miracles?"

She could almost see the bewildered look on his face without looking. "Y—yeah," was the response, with him shrugging as if the answer had been obvious.

"Could you maybe do it now?" Rose asked, draping her arm over the chair as she continued to stare at John, "'Cause, I dunno; seems like you're the sort of man God would listen to."

"You know," Rory replied slowly, taking a chair himself and sitting down to face her, "He doesn't always say 'yes'."

Absentmindedly she rubbed the tip of her nose. She also decided to change the subject. "Why d'ya look out for people so much?" she shrugged. "I'd fink it'd get boring."

Rory looked just as surprised by this question as the last. "'Cause I'm gonna see them again!" he exclaimed. On second thought, he thrust his finger up toward the ceiling a bit—awkwardly again. "Something He _does_ say."

Rose stared at him. "You just said that," she remarked, thoughtfully.

"Said what?"

"That I was gonna see 'im again," she pushed, trying to get him to remember. "Like, even if he died, I was gonna see him, again."

"I didn—I only said that one time," he raised his eyebrows slightly, mouth curving in a slight 'o' that said he had no idea what she was talking about.

Rose sat back in her chair with a huff. "Great. All this crap goin' on; my life's already a mess and now I'm hearin' voices in my head!"

Rory shrugged, rather unhelpfully.

Rose laughed at him. "Well, I'd better NOT be going mental, 'cause like you said, I've got kids to raise!" she lifted an eyebrow at him as he stood to leave. "And apparently a bet to win."

Rory flashed a rare grin. "You won't be winning it."

"Yeah, right," she shot back. Then her face changed. "And I just—wanna say, thanks—'cause you've done everything right, takin' care of 'im," she took a deep, shaky breath, "and I've done everyfin' wrong, and you've taken care of me, too."

He thought for a moment, hand on the doorknob, and shrugged expressively. "I guess—I was just supposed to help you out."

The nurse left, closing the door behind him. Rose smiled sideways at the door, not sure entirely what was going to happen with her or John, but at least knowing that as soon as he had another moment for them, Mr. Williams would have some solutions. He'd know what she should do.

"_Keep looking." _

"Wha?" her gaze snapped back up to the door, but the nurse was nowhere in sight. She really was hearing things!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Rose was literally on the verge of tears. They'd tried everything to wake up John—or John who was actually the Doctor now. She needed to speak to him one last time, and now it looked like they'd waited too long. He'd never tell her what she needed to know—that one line he had to say. No, several lines.

She hadn't heard those voices in her head after the last time. She brushed them off as ghosts created by her somewhat crazed head. But now, as she bounced the now three-year-old Alex on her knee and tried so, so hard not to cry in front of the kids, she didn't know what the word crazy was about to mean.

She let Alex go, squirming off to see Grandpa, who picked him up and surveyed his daughter and son-in-law with a grim face. Two Jackies were together as well—her big girl had grown up while her father slowly died. She was nearly six. Rose felt so guilty—she'd missed so much of her kid's lives.

A trembling hand she barely recognized as her own gently reached out and touched John's steaming chest, feeling the unsteady beat of the single heart that could barely sustain his raving mind any longer.

Rory softly entered the room, beginning to set out another array of items for their next attempt at rousing him. That Rory—he'd been such an angel. Part of her wistfully hoped that the other Doctor, the real Doctor in the world she'd been born in, might have met a Rory as well.

"D'ya think the chemicals will work?" mum Jackie questioned, rousing her from her thoughts. "Oh, Rose, he'll come awake sometime! He loves you! He's just got to!"

"I _know_, Mum," Rose choked out, "but nofin's worked! I don't think he's comin' back, Mum, not ever!"

Jackie opened her mouth like she was about to say something in reply, then shut it again.

Dr. Ridenour entered the room and crossed to where Rose was sitting. "Mrs. Smith," she said gently, "I'm afraid this is the last attempt we can make to rouse your husband. After this, there is no other method available to us."

Rose could only swallow tears and nod in response.

Rory placed the mask over John's face, lifting his head from the sweat-soaked pillow underneath, and the doctor instructed him to turn on the chemical arousal.

John moaned faintly and Rose's heart caught in her throat as his head moved, turning toward her, but all her hopes were dashed when he lay still again within a few seconds. Even the chemical wasn't enough to rouse him out of his stupor. He was more dead than alive. He had nothing left to give her. Nothing.

Rose felt the bottled tears start to fall as her whole body shook with suppressed sobs. Her Mum came and put an arm around her, but it wasn't enough.

"We ca—" Dr. Ridenour started, but Rose interrupted.

"Just take it off!" she shouted. "Just take it off of him! We're done! We'll let him be—if I can't—I'll just let him be!"

Rory removed the mask and turned off the machine as Rose continued to grip her mother's arm as she sobbed. There was a bowl of ice water next to them. Rose used to dip her hands in it before she would touch him, so she would help to cool him down instead of making him even warmer with her touch.

Suddenly she stood up, plunging both hands in. Between the tears that blurred her eyes, she could see John's chest rising more slowly, each breath more and more torturous. When her hands and arms were finally cool, she threw herself over him, hugging him tightly, running her numb hands over his face, his neck, his chest, his hands, all dripping with sweat. Nobody made a move to stop her.

"Don't leave just yet," she sobbed, whispering in his ear. "Don't go! We can't end like this—we're not done! Doctor—Doctor! Tell me that you love me! Doctor—" she stopped, remembering their first Christmas together, the last time she'd seen him in such a terrible state, he wouldn't wake up even for her. "_Help me_!"

In a blink of an eye so quick no one saw it coming and almost made it surreal, he sat up and grabbed her shoulders with a shocking amount of strength. His dark brown eyes were open and blazing at her as if on fire—and they were. He was fighting too hard to smile, but he looked her straight in the eye. His Rose. The most precious thing he'd leave behind. "Two words I never refuse," he said under his breath.

Rose thought she was going to faint. But she suddenly shook her head, realizing how stupid that would be, to waste all their time like that. "Doctor?"

"I'll see you again, Rose Tyler," he spat out, barely able to speak, shaking under his own weight.

"—Doubt that," was all she could manage, unshed tears blinking back behind her eyes.

"That's a pity," he shook his head.

"Sorry." How could she no longer believe this? Even her John? Her Doctor?

"Keep looking." His eyes blazed, and she felt her body jerk as she recognized the words.

"Why?" she shouted, grabbing him as tightly as he was holding her.

"'Cause I—" he stopped, hesitating for the first time since he'd come awake. She noticed how his arms shook as he tried to keep on holding hers, and realized how short of a time they had.

"Doctor! Tell me that you love me, now!"

A sparkle of wonder suddenly came to his burning eyes, of sudden realization that that was all he had to do. "I can do better than that!" he scoffed, almost managing to crack a last smile, his whole body shaking now, and his voice. "Rosie Jacqueline Smith, I. Love. You. I'm gonna see you again."

His upper body collapsed on her shoulder, and she caught him with his head resting against her ear. His voice was strained and hoarse as he whispered one last thing to her. "And it's John, on my tombstone, d'ya hear?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The funeral was a blur, and then it was back to life as normal. Strange, how normal it could be without him. Rose worked part-time on a special salary her father had extended, picked the kids up from the Tylers', and they spent the rest of the day at home, doing normal things. Washing the dishes, doing the laundry, painting pictures, going for walks in the park.

Rose didn't get it. Her heart had been broken. Life seemed impossible, yet it went on—even on the days she couldn't manage to drag herself out of bed.

Those days grew less frequent, but she still didn't understand how the planet continued to turn. Death was just so—_wrong_.

Six months after John left, she sat on a park bench on a Monday afternoon, listlessly watching her kids climb around on the playground.

Dragonflies buzzed around her. Dandelions and other wildflowers bent over in the occasional warm breeze, scattering petals and flying seeds. All around her there was life—in the ancient trees that soared impossibly tall and skinny into the air hundreds of feet above her head, extending green, leafy branches in every direction and entwining with one another; in the shining of Earth's single yellow sun, in the laughter of the children skipping around on the playground. Her own single heart beat within her chest.

It was so impossible. It _wasn't_ possible, unless—

"_Hi, Honey. I'm home." _

Clear as day, it was his voice. She hadn't imagined _that_.

She spun around, almost expecting to see him behind her, but the walk was empty as it had been before. Somehow, though, she knew he was there.

It wasn't possible,_ unless_ _he was still alive_…

The sun had gone behind a puffy cloud, but as she tried to calm her wildly beating heart as she went to sit down again, it suddenly broke forth and filled the air around her with sunshine. The warmth bathed her skin and penetrated much deeper—she felt warmed to her very soul. And suddenly, taking a deep breath, she understood.

She _would_ see him again. After all, she was only human. She would die, too, and they'd be together.

But that's not why she had to keep looking—she had to keep looking for him because he was the _Doctor_, and the Doctor was the reason she'd been born. She was meant to find him. To save him from himself, over and over again.

A small grin made its way across her face as she turned her bright eyes upwards.

She had some looking to do.


	10. Epilogue: Spoilers!

**Thank you everybody who followed, favorited, reviewed, read, etc.! I love you guys and I hope you enjoyed the story. This epilogue to our story is entitled SPOILERS! That's because the events described may end up becoming another story…not really anytime soon, but maybe someday…! So follow me as an author and you'll find out!**

**In the meantime, though, realize that this chapter is a bit AU! **

Epilogue

_Six months later…_

Rose eventually found herself back in the universe she'd been born in. Summoned by an old friend, Mickey Smith and his—_wife?!—_Martha.

The universe and the times they'd lived in had changed them. It wasn't as awkward of a meeting as one might have supposed. Rose saw Mickey and she was nothing but proud of him, and of Martha, the woman who'd helped look after the Doctor while she'd been gone.

There was a reason she'd been called back, however.

Actually, it was something of an accident.

Well, 'never mind', as Mickey said…

The Time Lords returned, and all of a sudden, it got a lot easier to jump between parallel worlds and—well, she somehow ended up helping the Doctor defeat his own people _yet again_!

It was quite an ugly battle. But what shocked Rose most of all was that the Doctor had changed every bit as much as she had!

He'd had quite a hard time of it, frankly. He'd lost Donna, decided to travel alone, and was without help when captured and tortured by a then-unidentifiable threat. When he escaped, he was broken and had lost his mind and sat in the Tardis on the corner of an alley on the half-planet of A-Baku—for ten years— before a beggar child had helped him recover his mental capacities.

Only to return to Earth and find his old friends the Time Lords returning from time-lock to consume the human-planet in their selfish plans to become the ultimate powerful and immortal beings in the universe.

So Rose helped him, and probably saved his song from ending—a couple of times.

She couldn't get over the sweet, old man he'd become, though. He still looked fairly young, but he wasn't.

The Doctor couldn't get over the experienced, motherly woman his Rose had become. It seemed like they hardly knew each other. But— they loved each other twice as much as before.

The Time Lords defeated, the Master dead, and President Obama restored, they finally said their good-byes to Jack and Mickey and Martha and Donna and Wilfred, setting out with the Tardis with the unspoken destination of the parallel world in which Rose now lived in mind. Rose wouldn't dream of not returning to her family, of course; her children were in the parallel world, and her parents; and so many friends, too.

The Tardis floated through the spatial chasm, the 'tunnel' between parallel worlds, which the Time Machine created herself, presumably taking them back through the loosed channels the Gallifreyan white-point star had created.

They were alone together at last.

"Twenty-one years since we met," the Doctor remarked quietly, sitting on his bench, watching Rose with a slight smile in his ancient eyes. "For me, anyway." Suddenly, he noticed something strange about what Rose was doing. "Where did you learn to fly the Tardis?"

"From John," she replied softly, continuing to work the controls without turning to face him. There was such a peaceful quiet in the room it made her seem more beautiful, in a way he'd never seen her before. For once, he was content to sit and watch her, instead of rushing about.

"How is he?" he asked curiously, wondering how his metacrisis twin had ever allowed Rose to leave the universe he'd left them in.

Rose stopped, hands hovering over the controls. "He died last year."

The Doctor's smile instantly faded and was replaced by a horrified stare. He couldn't believe what he had heard. "What? How?"

She turned halfway toward him, her eyes down and her mouth twisted. "Same thing as Donna, just not as bad, not at first." she shivered and met his eyes with soft tears in her own.

"I—I never thought that would happen," the Doctor stammered.

"I know you didn't," she sniffed and smiled a tiny bit.

"Rose, I'm so sorry…"

He awkwardly reached out to here, stopping and pulling back halfway, because he didn't want to cause her even more pain.

"Don't be," she interrupted, suddenly showing concern for him, as he had for her. She launched into the story. "'Was five years before we knew anything was wrong. We got married, started growin' the Tardis. We'd just had our second baby—s'all we had time for, before he got sick. He figured out what it was before anyone else did. He was dyin' all along. He made it two and a half more years. Then he left."

Tears started to roll down her cheeks, and the Doctor stared at the precious, shining drops in shocked silence. "I could've saved him," he whispered, thinking of how he saved Donna.

"No, you couldn't," she told him, as firmly as her voice would allow. She sighed and turned her attention back to the Tardis controls. "I knew I could save you; that's why I came back. You didn't know. You couldn'tve known."

"I look like him," he pointed out, moving toward her with his forehead wrinkled in concern. "D—does it hurt? To have me here, I mean—"

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. "No! I know you both well enough to tell you apart."

Convinced it was okay now, he finally reached out and took her in his arms, where she buried her golden head in his coat and they leaned on each other for comfort. "I love you," she said through her tears, surprising him.

"—I—I love you, too," he replied after a moment's hesitation. It wasn't as hard as he'd thought it would be, just to say it.

After a few sweet, endearing moments, Rose suddenly took a step back and slapped him.

"WHAT?!" the Doctor nearly shouted. "Not you, too!" Pretty much all his friends had slapped him at some time or another, but never Rose!

"Seventeen years!" Rose near-shouted back, although she was trying hard not to smile. "That's way too long to be alone! What's the matter with you? You're lucky to be alive!"

"I know, I know!" he groaned, pretending to be embarrassed. It was the first time he'd carried himself with such animation in, oh, God only knew how long. "And what about you, Rose Tyler, don't tell me you haven't wished to have your old Doctor back to keep you company, if only some days," he grinned, raising his eyebrows at her wickedly.

"Only every day since _you_ left us behind," she answered sassily.

They each ran out of lines to pull on each other, at least for the time being, and suddenly exploded into laughter, almost falling over as they held onto the console to steady themselves. It took such a beautiful long time for them to stop, because every time they tried to something in one would snap, some last spear in their souls from the past, and they'd start all over again, till they were both on the floor with tears of laughter streaming down their cheeks, stomachs aching and holding hands again like of old.

It must've been hours before they settled down, and hours more before the Doctor finally spoke again. "Travel with me," He flashed a brighter grin than he had used in years.

Rose sort of winced, not wanting to disappoint him, but, oh, they'd had such a good time in these few minutes together! "I—can't, I have babies," she reminded him.

"I love babies!" he wasn't deterred in the slightest.

She laughed. "But—but—my mum and dad—"

"I'm _plenty_ old enough to be your dad," he remarked archly, causing her to double over with laughter again.

"But—the kids—it's only been a year; they'll think you're _him_."

"Well, they've seen identical twins before, haven't they? Honestly, Rose, what kind of a sheltered life have you been giving them?"

Rose's smile didn't go anywhere, and she couldn't answer because she was trying to catch her breath, so the Doctor continued, no longer in a jesting way.

"Kids are clever, Rose, they'll figure it out, if we tell them. They already know about the Doctor, right? See, we can do this. We'll make it work." He SO wanted her to come back!

Rose sniffed. "Maybe we will," she gave him a wobbly smile. "Just maybe—but, Doctor, I—I can't tell you _now_."

She smiled at his confused look and proceeded to explain. "I can't make decisions like you do. I need time, I just need—" he put his arm around her to show that he understood, "I need like, a week or so, at least. 'S that okay?"

"Um, can I leave you in Bad Wolf Bay for a week or so and pick you up in a few minutes?"

Rose tossed her head. "No, 'cause I wanna talk to you, you stupid alien you," she teased. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"That long?"

"Cause, if this is the last week I see you, I wanna enjoy every minute of it."

Finally nodding in understanding, he reached over and kissed the top of her head. Born in love with her or no, he loved her now like a daughter more than a lady-friend. Finally she understood that, too, and he hoped, he just hoped, it would make it easier for her to decide.

He was no replacement for John, poor John Smith, his brother. Maybe someday he and Rose would fall in love again, but that didn't matter now. He was just the Doctor, a Time Lord, off to see the universe.

And he needed a hand to hold.

**THE END**

**So we're at the end, my friends. Thank you all again for reading. Please tell me what you think in the reviews section, and follow me for more stories!**

**God bless you all and give you abundant peace, no matter where life takes you. **

**~Marina**


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